


Always My Name

by BookSneakersMovie



Category: Dream SMP RPF, Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Bullying, Confessions, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Crossover, Dating, Getting to Know Each Other, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Sam | Awesamdude, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Novella, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Pining, Romance, School, Shipping, Slash, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookSneakersMovie/pseuds/BookSneakersMovie
Summary: Clay is distracted from his upcoming soccer tournament by the cute new exchange student who now lives with him.George is forced to come to terms with his feelings when the very thing he’s trying to escape follows him to America.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Clay | Dream's Sister Drista (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 22
Kudos: 122





	1. Students

**Author's Note:**

> This is originally from Wattpad, I'll try to update at the same time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay looks at some of the possible exchange students after his family is approved to become a host family.

Clay woke up that morning feeling good.

He stretched, yawned, and rolled out of bed.

Clay decided to wear a gray T-shirt with black pants. Then he put his trademark green hoodie over his shirt. He had to wear the hoodie; it was like a requirement for Clay.

He slipped into his backpack and grabbed an apple for an on-the-go breakfast. However, he wasn't able to make it out of the house.

"Clay!"

 _Damn it._ Clay thought he had gotten up earlier than his mom. However, he was apparently mistaken.

Clay's mom dashed into the room. Her hair was disheveled; her eyes were tired yet shone brightly.

"Great news!"

"Oh?" Clay made sure he didn't get too excited. "Great news" often meant exclusive front-row tickets to an educational musical.

"Our application to become a host family was accepted!"

Now, this was news. It was good news for the time being but could become bad news at any moment.

"Really?"

Clay's mom nodded excitedly.

Clay's family had been trying to become a host family for an exchange student for a while now.

"Here." Clay's mom pulled out her phone and tapped wildly on the screen. "I just texted you the link to the website. You can look at some of the exchange students at school."

Sure enough, Clay's phone buzzed in his pocket.

Clay's mom looked down at her phone again and gasped. "Clay, you're almost late! Hurry up and go!"

Clay nodded and opened the door.

"Bye, sweetie!" Clay's mom called after him.

"Bye, Mom," Clay responded in the same exasperated tone as always.

Clay shut the door and started walking.

It was slightly chilly out today. There was a light breeze accompanying the shining sun.

 _Great weather for soccer practice,_ Clay thought as he took a bite from the apple. To beat the Hermits, he would need to do at least five drills a day, or so it felt. The date of the big tournament was still TBA, but no matter when it was, it was far too soon.

The Hermits were the best soccer team in the county. It hadn't been confirmed that they would be participating in the tournament, but everyone knew they were. The Hermits always had, and they won every time.

Clay's school's team was called the Dream Team. Clay was the captain. Clay's best friend, Nick, always called him the star of the Dream Team. Though he never admitted it, Clay knew he was. He excelled at defense and was considered one of the best soccer players in the county. Even so, this was the Dream Team's first time making it to the tournament, the final set of games of the season, since he started high school.

Clay thought back to their last game. The team's name was Legacy. Clay had scored the final goal, and Nick had just about lost his mind. Clay seemed to remember Nick saying he was light-headed after all the screaming he had done.

"Yo! Clay!"

Speaking of Nick.

Clay turned around to see Nick jogging up the sidewalk.

Clay hung back to allow Nick to catch up.

"What's up, Nick?" Clay asked as he finished off his apple.

Nick shrugged. "Nothing much. Practice. Gaming. Got my first netherite in my new survival world yesterday."

"Oh, that's cool."

Nick nodded.

"Hey, Nick?"

"Huh?"

"Guess what."

"What."

"Our application to be a host family got approved!"

Nick looked surprised.

"You? Got approved? For _anything?_ "

"Shut up," Clay muttered.

"No, really though, man, that's pretty cool. Do you know who the student is going to be yet?"

Clay shook his head. "No, not yet, I don't think. Hang on-"

He took his phone out of his pocket and clicked on the text bubble on the lock screen, pulling up a text from his mom. He clicked on the link it contained, which opened up Google and loaded some random site.

"Oooh, your mom's been hacked," Nick said excitedly, staring over at Clay's phone screen as the "about:blank" message displayed in the search bar.

Clay elbowed Nick out of his face and reloaded the page. This time, a site appeared. There was a list of international students once he scrolled down enough.

"Oh, crap," Clay and Nick simultaneously said as they heard the warning bell ring from a couple of blocks down.

Both of them started to jog while Clay shoved his phone haphazardly back in his pocket.

Somehow they managed to make it to the school before the second bell rang.

Nick left to go to his earth science class, and Clay went upstairs to English class.

Clay and Nick's school had block scheduling, which meant Mr. Williams talked for forty-five minutes, and the kids filled out worksheets for an hour. Clay wondered why he signed up for AP English again. He enviously thought about what Nick might be learning in his classes. Clay's freshman classes had probably been more difficult than them.

After what seemed like an eternity, Clay's class finally ended, and his free period began. Luckily, Nick had the same free period as he did, so together, they went up to the library.

Each sat down at a computer. Clay logged onto the school website to look into the soccer tournament and the exchange students, sure that Nick was doing the same.

"Holy shit," Nick said suddenly, earning a dirty look from the librarian.

"Oh. Whoops. I meant 'oh my goodness," Nick called to the librarian. Then he groaned. "Ugh, I sound like Darryl."

Clay grinned. "Now, what the muffin is going on here, you muffiny muffin-headed muffins-"

"LANGUAGE!!! Oh my goodness, Zak, you muffin-"

Clay just couldn't. He burst into laughter, trying his best to stifle it with his hand so the librarian wouldn't notice.

Nick lost it too but didn't stifle his laughter, causing the librarian to audibly growl.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Clay sat up and sighed.

"What were you gonna say, Nick?"

"Huh? Oh, the tournament is us versus the Hermits-"

"Duh."

"-and the first game is March 10."

"Crap."

The date that day was December 12.

Clay slumped back in his seat. "Goddammit, Nick, that's nowhere near enough time!" Considering winter break and the fact that the exchange student would arrive mid-January, there would be very little time for practice with the whole team.

Nick seemed to agree. "It's pretty rough. But hey! We've got you!" He punched Clay on the shoulder.

"I don't know. I think you're forgetting how good the Hermits are."

"Well, yeah, but we're way more competitive."

This was true. Though the Hermits were incredibly talented, they definitely were still in it for fun.

"They have gotten more competitive over the years. Especially as the season goes on."

"Well, duh! Wouldn't you be more competitive in the last game of the season than the first?"

"I mean, I guess so, but-"

"Come on, man. You're not helping the team's morale like this. Do you want the Dream Team to walk onto the field on the 10th saying 'Yeah, sorry, Hermits, I forgot how good you are? Can we get some extra practice time?'"

Clay gave Nick an annoyed look, but he couldn't deny the points he had made.

"Fine, fine, you're right, Nick. From now on, I'll be a positive muffin." He fake-grinned.

"That's the spirit. We're gonna fucking crush 'em!!!"

Nick had evidently forgotten he was in the library.

After the librarian removed Nick from the library, Clay knew he couldn't make a sound without getting the librarian angry at him. So he tried to silently sneak his phone out of his pocket without the librarian noticing. Clay turned down the brightness setting and slid his phone under his jacket except for the very top part that showed the link to the website. Carefully, he copied the link letter for letter into the search bar on the computer.

When the page loaded up, Clay locked his phone and returned it to his pocket, glancing at the librarian to make sure she hadn't seen.

Clay scrolled down to look through the list of students. There were lots of different countries. Clay looked in the UK section, mostly because he really didn't want to teach a kid English.

Clay noticed that two sixteen-year-olds were coming from the same school in Brighton, which he found funny.

The two kids were named Will Gold and George Davidson.

Clay clicked on Will's page first. The first picture he saw was kind of creepy-looking: a kid with brown hair weirdly staring at the camera.

However, the ones after that seemed nicer; they showed a handsome kid with an attractive smile. Will apparently went by Wilbur, which Clay found rather odd. After reading a bit about "Wilbur," Clay came to the conclusion that he seemed like the kind of guy who either lit up a room or made the whole room dark, depending on his mood.

Then Clay navigated to George's page.

Almost immediately, he wished he hadn't.

The first picture he saw was of a dark-haired kid with perfect skin. He was grinning, his head resting in his hand in a way that squished his cheek. It was absolutely adorable.

George was absolutely adorable.

Clay felt his heartbeat in his cheeks.

For a long time, Clay had been debating if he was gay. He had never really been attracted to girls, even the "pretty" ones that Nick had simped hard for. He knew that girls seemed to be attracted to him, though, which made the whole thing more awkward. Often they would flirt with him, and Clay absolutely hated it. Sometimes he tried to flirt back, but it usually ended badly, with Nick making fun of him for the next week.

With boys, Clay often noticed when they were "cute" or "attractive" or whatnot. With girls, they just looked like girls. No one "stood out" more than the other. When it came to boys, though, he often found himself analyzing their faces and would feel uncomfortable around the good-looking ones. He found that when talking to those boys, his voice would get louder, and he didn't really know what words were coming out of his mouth.

However, he had never seen any person, regardless of gender, as beautiful as George.

Clay kept reading about George. He had to. His fingers couldn't stop scrolling down the screen.

If he wasn't gay before, he was now.

Ordinarily, when the bell rang, Clay was mad because he didn't want to go back to class. This time, though, it was because he couldn't leave George. He just couldn't.

Clay heard the librarian's footsteps behind him. Flustered, as if the sounds pulled back from another dimension, he quickly bookmarked the tab and logged out, then ran to his next class.

Clay didn't need to read any more about any other students.

He knew which one he was going to choose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this absolute cringefest of a chapter, lol. If you made it all the way to here, you are a legend. Hopefully, this will get less cringy in the future (note: hopefully), so I'd recommend sticking around to see... But seriously, though. You're awesome. Thank you so, so, SO much if you made it this far, and an extra thank you if you read the next chapter when it comes out!


	2. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay returns to school in a bad mood.

The next day, Clay woke up feeling... not as good as the day before.

It was about 6:45 in the morning. Clay's alarm was set for 7:15. He had slept with his arm in a weird position, so now it was tingling. His mouth was kind of dry. He felt his stomach turn slightly.

Clay ran his fingers through his hair.

Clay had no clue why he had woken up this early. Maybe his sleep schedule was just messed up after getting up early yesterday. But no, it didn't quite feel like that was the case.

Strangely enough, Clay didn't feel tired at all. He mostly felt... Empty? No, not really. Worried? Not that he knew of. Inadequate was probably the word for it.

What it really felt like was a part of him was missing. Not a lot, but a part nonetheless. There was this void inside of him where it had been, and it was sucking away his sleep and his good dreams.

Well, whatever it was, it wasn't real; no need to worry.

Or so he told himself.

Clay could've gone back to bed, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep. Instead, he grabbed his phone, planning to scroll Reddit.

However, upon opening his phone, his finger hovered above Google. He knew the page about George would be open there.

Clay rolled his eyes at his own self, turned his phone back off again, and went back to bed, only to stare at the ceiling and sigh.

At some point, his alarm finally went off. Clay turned it off quickly, then got up and got ready for school.

Nick was late, so he didn't walk with Clay. Nick actually being on time yesterday had been a rare occurrence. Most days, he was about five to ten minutes late. His teachers did not fail to notice, as most days Nick had to stay after school.

As Clay walked into his classroom, he remembered that there was soccer practice later that day. Not only did they need to prepare against the Hermits, Clay hadn't seen his friend Zak in a while. It would be nice to see him again.

Physics class was unusually tedious. Ms. Levingston said at least one exciting thing most days. Today she just talked about some random theories Clay had never heard of and why they might be correct or incorrect.

It didn't help that the feeling of _missing_ was still there. Ms. Levingston didn't even have them do any reading or fill out any worksheets, which might've helped Clay feel a little more complete. This class was just one long, boring lecture, which, if anything, made Clay feel worse.

By the time the bell rang for his free period, Clay could barely think. He was starving and decided to go buy a snack.

On his way to the lunch line, he ran into Darryl, who seemed to have the same idea.

"Hi, Clay!" Darryl said happily.

"Hello," Clay replied. He must not have sounded cheerful enough because Darryl looked concerned.

"Hey, you all right, you little muffin?" Darryl asked.

"Yeah," Clay said. "I am."

Darryl didn't look convinced but didn't push the subject.

"Ugh, I'm starving," Clay complained while waiting in line. "What are you getting, Darryl?"

"A muffin, of course," Darryl said, seemingly confused about why Clay would ever ask such a thing. "What about you?"

"I dunno. Probably a chocolate chip cookie or something."

"Ooh, those are good. Not as good as the muffins, though."

Clay smiled.

When they got to the front of the line, Clay and Darryl forked over their money and sat in the courtyard to eat. The entire time, Darryl kept talking about how good the muffins are at their school. He finished eating in about twenty seconds. Clay, meanwhile, took his time to eat. He finished moments before the bell rang.

Together, Clay and Darryl walked inside. Clay noted that he felt slightly better. Maybe it was eating, maybe it was hanging out with Darryl. Whatever it was, it helped.

The two passed Zak on the way to their lockers. He looked annoyed for some reason.

"Hey, muffinhead!" Darryl stopped by Zak's locker.

Zak grunted, grabbed his books from his locker, and stormed off.

"Someone's a grumpy potato," Darryl said, concerned, as he stared off after Zak. "I wonder what's going on."

"Eh," Clay shrugged. "I'll talk to him at practice."

"Maybe I'll go too," Darryl said. Then he looked at Clay. "I mean if you'll let me. Can I go?"

"Yeah, sure. It's not like we're discussing some sort of top-secret government data."

Darryl smiled. "See you later, then."

Clay nodded.

The rest of the day went by surprisingly quickly. Clay's final class of the day was math class, which was essentially a free period. Mr. Perez was a new teacher to the school, and he was... _unprepared_ for the difficulties of teaching a class full of teenagers. Five sessions of Never Gonna Give You Up, three new pencils stuck in the ceiling, and one rap battle later, Clay found himself chanting down the last five seconds of the school day. You'd think that a group of 16 to 18-year-olds would be more mature than this, but nope.

The second the bell rang, Clay, along with everyone else, bolted out of the portable. He managed to get outside before a mob clogged the doorway. God, he was glad to get out of there. Portables were meant to have AC, but theirs was sadly broken. If they had to do any sort of math in that heat, Clay's brain might explode.

Clay was the first onto the field. Soccer practice didn't start for a few minutes, so Clay took off his hoodie, pulled a soccer ball out of the tiny shed on the edge of the field, and practiced a few solo drills.

"Hey! Muffinhead!"

Clay turned around. He saw Darryl walking toward the field.

"Am I early?" he asked awkwardly. "We seem to be the only ones here..."

"Not that early. Kids are gonna start showing up soon. Hey look, there's Sam."

Sure enough, their friend Sam was leaving the school building. He waved at them.

"When..." Darryl paused. "When's Zak going to show up, do you think?"

"Normally, he shows up fairly early, I guess, but who knows about today, considering..."

He and Darryl glanced at each other.

"I don't know. We'll have to see."

Darryl nodded.

The rest of the team showed up, save Nick and Zak. They did a few drills but waited to officially start until they arrived. Finally, they spotted Nick leaving the building.

"Sorry bout that. Got held up by Ms. Janvier. Apparently, she did not like that I was ten minutes late for math class. Like, it's ten fricking minutes! Tip: Don't be late for Ms. Janvier's class." He shuddered. " _Never_ making that mistake again."

Somehow, Clay seriously doubted that.

"Hey, Nick, have you seen Zak anywhere?" Darryl asked tentatively.

"Oh, hey, Darryl. Yeah, actually, I saw him getting picked up by his mom. No clue why. Guess he forgot there was practice today?"

"Hmm. I... I guess so," Clay said, trying to keep his concern for Zak out of his voice.

Darryl frowned.

"You gonna stay anyway?" Clay asked Darryl.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied with a smile. It was clear that he was only saying that to be polite.

"No, really, Darryl, you don't have to stay."

"It's all right. I think it would be... interesting to watch you guys play."

Clay shrugged. "If you say so."

The practice was uneventful and, frankly, quite dull to Clay. Everyone else seemed to have fun, but Clay couldn't. Just when he thought he had conquered the feeling of _missing_ , it had returned, and it was worse than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have this chapter. Ugh, this took waayyyy too long to write. I have about a million other fanfic ideas in my head right now, lol.


	3. Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short montage of time passing.

And so the weeks went by.

Practices were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, though Clay practiced solo, and sometimes with Nick, almost every day. Clay was pretty sure the entire team was getting better. He didn't know if they were able to beat the Hermits yet. Probably not, but they were definitely getting close.

Zak was still generally in a bad mood. He showed up to practices now, but he didn't seem too enthusiastic about it. Darryl kept trying to talk to him, but their friendship seemed to be in a rough spot. All of Zak's seemed to be, really.

The feeling of _missing_ had mostly faded away by the time break began. There was something that would make it even better, but it hadn't appeared yet.

Winter break arrived, meaning everyone got two weeks with no school. Christmas came and went. Clay got several good gifts. However, there was one gift that would be better than them all.

Then there were meetings.

All sorts of meetings with this "representative" guy to talk about being a host family. Where would a student stay, which student was the best for them, how long did they want them to stay, etc. It was all incredibly tedious.

Apparently, Clay's family had started a sort of _trend_. Several of Clay's friends, including Nick, contacted them, saying they had been approved to host an exchange student too.

Clay was just waiting, the entire time, for one bit of news.

Then, one morning, it happened.

Clay was woken up three days after Christmas by his mom. It was probably 10:30 or so in the morning. At first, he was annoyed. However, when he saw the expression on his mom's face, he felt a little hopeful. Could it be...?

"Clay?"

"What?"

"We got matched with a student!"

So that was how Clay discovered that George Davidson would be staying at their house for the next five months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fine, I'll admit it, this is a shitty filler chapter. But it works!... Right?
> 
> Oh, never mind. Have the chapter, whether you want it or not.


	4. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George travels to the US and meets Clay and his family for the first time.

George sat silently in his seat on his way to the US.

_I'm really going. This is really happening._

_I mean, it's not like I can just hop into the ocean and swim back to Britain._

George sighed and pulled out his phone again, intending to play some Minecraft. However, mobile gameplay always got on his nerves. He closed the app almost as soon as he'd opened it.

He found his way back in the Google app, just as he had for the past weeks since he'd been matched.

 _The Mitchell family._ George began to scroll through the family that would become _his_ family for the next five months.

There was a mom, Stephanie, a dad, Will, and two kids, Clay and Drista. Clay was 16, the same age as George, and Drista was nine.

George sighed and checked the time. _Four hours down, six to go._

Four hours had passed already?

Who knew that literally sitting in a plane and doing nothing was this tiring.

_What is there to do? I could read something, maybe? No, I already read the books I brought. Should I play some Minecraft? No, idiot, I just did. I could take a nap..._

A nap did sound like a good idea to George. Unfortunately, staring at a phone for four hours has an effect on the eyes. It probably took George an hour to find a comfortable position, tune out the engine and the snoring of the man in the next seat over, and actually get his brain to fall asleep.

***

The plane landed roughly. George woke up instantly, looking around. The snoring man was taking his carry-ons from the overhead compartment. A large suitcase almost fell on George's head. He scrambled back.

The line to get out of the plane was cramped and tedious. Annoyed, George waited for his turn to get off the plane.

As he walked, he felt... strange. He wasn't sure why. He just... did.

The floor of the jet bridge was somewhat slippery. George struggled to keep his balance. However, just as he left the gate, he slipped and fell. His duffel bag opened, and clothes spilled onto the floor. His backpack, filled with books, hit his back hard.

George heard laughing. He shouldn't have been surprised. A short, nerdy-looking kid just fell on his face. Quite funny. Still, someone probably should have helped him get up. The laughing should've ended a long time ago. It should've been just chuckling, not full-on laughing, right? Someone should have been concerned that he hadn't stood up yet.

Yet no one was.

The laughing grew harder. The sound pounded in his ears, making his head throb. This shouldn't be happening. This... this _couldn't_ be happening.

Then he heard a new voice. One very close to his ear.

"Go back," it whispered dangerously. "You shouldn't be here. Go back home."

It chuckled- a cold noise that froze his blood. Shame flooded through his mind.

He should never have come here.

***

George woke up with a start.

The man sitting next to him gave him a funny look. Not an uncalled one, to be fair. George was drenched in sweat. He could feel tears on his face. George had just jumped about a foot in the air. If he hadn't been wearing his seatbelt, he probably would've fallen out of his seat.

Sighing, George dried his face (why the hell was he crying anyway?) and took his phone out from his backpack. Only half an hour left. Thank god.

He just wanted to get this whole thing done as soon as possible. He just wanted these five months to go by as quickly as they could.

Eventually, the plane landed. It was a smooth landing, unlike in George's nightmare. Still, he felt sick to his stomach.

The rest was similar, unfortunately. A large suitcase did almost fall on George's head, and the line was considerably slow. The floor of the jet bridge was slippery, but he didn't fall.

George checked his phone. _The Mitchells should be waiting at... Carousel 7._

His eyes scanned the baggage carousels. _1, 2, 3..._

There was 7. George jogged over (not too fast, though- his nightmare was still on his mind). _They should be around here somewhere,_ he thought as he looked around.

Then he saw them.

There they were, four people, matching the descriptions in the emails he'd received. They were holding up a large banner. "Welcome Home, George!" it read, in messy blue letters. In fact, most of the decorations were blue. They must have seen that he was color-blind. George smiled to himself.

Then he really got a good look at the people holding the banner, and his mind went blank.

Well, it was only due to one of the people, really- the teenager, Clay.

He had scruffy blond hair, lots of freckles, and sparkling eyes that he could tell were green even from this distance away.

He was tall, too. Taller than his mom and about as tall as his dad.

George found himself blushing.

Slowly, he walked over to the family, smiling. "Hi," he said softly, "I'm George. Are you the Mitchells?"

"We are," the woman, who was presumably Stephanie, said with a warm smile. "I'm Stephanie, this is my husband, Will, and this is Clay and Drista. Though I'm sure you know that already," she added.

Clay grinned at George, who tried not to go red.

Because Clay was more attractive than anybody George had ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a chapter! Hehehe  
> The festival was... interesting, wasn't it?


	5. Airport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay speaks to George for the first time, and they don't get along very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be calling Clay's parents by their names no matter the POV from now on.

"We've been waiting here forever," Drista complained. "When's George gonna get here?"

"Soon," Stephanie said for the fifth time.

"But Mom, you said that like an hour ago."

Stephanie glanced over at the screen on the wall. "George's flight should arrive in about fifteen minutes, honey. You can wait that long, right?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggghhh."

"Is that a yes?"

Drista scowled. "Fine."

Clay rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

He was excited for George to arrive.

 _You haven't even met him yet, idiot,_ he reminded himself. _He could be a total dickhead. You have absolutely no idea what he's like._

Still, he felt a little fluttery at the idea that George would be right here, talking to him in a few minutes.

"The flight's arrived!" Stephanie announced after a while. "Hold up the banner! He should be coming out from that gate over there! Everybody look for him!"

_George? Here? Now?_

Quickly, Clay arranged his hoodie in a presentable condition and tried to smooth his hair. He kept his eyes locked on the gate, knowing that it would surely be at least five minutes before George emerged, yet he couldn't take the risk of missing him.

"There! Is that him?" Drista yelled abruptly, pointing at the crowd of people entering from the gate.

Clay squinted toward where she had pointed. Among the crowd, he spotted a short, dark-haired teen wearing a gray hoodie and looking around. That was George, all right. Clay felt his face heat up.

"George!" Stephanie called, then paused. "He probably can't hear us." She began to wave the banner.

Drista jumped and down and waved her hands in the air. She looked like she was about to scream at the top of her lungs, but Will made her calm down.

Clay watched as George began to walk closer to them, looking across the baggage carousels. He turned toward them, eyes widening. He smiled a bit. Clay's heart began to beat slightly faster.

"Hi," George said as he approached them. "I'm George. Are you the Mitchells?"

His voice was as beautiful as his face- soft and sweet and kind. He was almost too good to be true. But he had to be real, as George's was the face that had been haunting Clay for the past few weeks.

"We are," Stephanie said. Clay snapped back to the real world. "I'm Stephanie, this is my husband, Will, and this is Clay and Drista. Though I'm sure you know that already."

Clay grinned at George when he heard his name. George sort of smiled back, then looked toward the baggage carousel. "Is my stuff going to come out here? I- I've never been on a plane before."

"I believe so," Stephanie said. "It won't start for a while, though, I don't think."

"Oh," George said, staring off into the distance. God, he was so pretty.

"How much stuff did you bring?" Clay asked.

"Uh- a few duffel bags- and I think there's a suitcase or two," George said.

"So this was your first time on a plane, huh?" Will asked.

George nodded.

"Can't even imagine being on a plane at your age, let alone by myself."

George jumped as the carousel suddenly started up with a loud clanking noise, followed by a mechanical whirring. Clay couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

George angrily turned around. "You think I'm funny?" he snapped.

"No," Clay said instantly. "No, I don't, I'm sorry."

George scoffed. "You don't have to lie," he said. "You wouldn't be the only one."

He turned away, leaving everyone in awkward silence.

"Well, hopefully, things will be better here," Stephanie said kindly, clearly trying to sound cheerful.

George rolled his eyes, but only halfheartedly. He looked away, his eyes showing a blend of sadness and worry.

"Hey, it's all right," Clay said. "Most of the kids here are pretty cool."

"Most?" George asked, his face switching to annoyance.

"Well, yeah, most. I mean, there are a few jerks, but just stay away from them and you'll be fine."

George sighed, and he didn't have to speak for Clay to know what he was thinking.

_A few bad apples spoil the bunch._

Clay started to say something. However, he was interrupted by the luggage emerging from the small window on the carousel.

He wasn't sure what George's attitude would have been about the whole situation. However, he certainly wasn't expecting this.

"So, George," Will said after a while, as the luggage circled the carriage. "What are we looking for here?"

"I think there are three duffel bags," George said, thinking. "And I'm pretty sure there are two suitcases. Everything is blue."

"You like the color blue?" Stephanie said.

George nodded. "It's the only color I can really see."

"You're color-blind, right?" Clay asked.

George turned around. "Yeah. What, are you looking for something else to make fun of me for?"

"No, of course not! Why would I do that?"

"You did earlier."

"Jesus Christ, I wasn't _making fun of you_ -"

"Keep your voice down, Clay," Stephanie cut in. "And watch your language."

"'Jesus Christ' is not a swear," Clay muttered.

"Clay..."

"What? It isn't!"

Stephanie sighed and shook her head.

Clay massaged his temples.

"Look, George, I wasn't making fun of you, I think you're a cool guy, but-"

"But _what?_ " George shot Clay an angry look.

"Wha- nothing! I- I think you're a cool guy!"

George rolled his eyes. "Oh look, that's mine," he said as he grabbed a duffel bag, enunciating every syllable with an unnecessary amount of annoyance.

"There's a tag on it!" Drista shouted. "What does it say? What does it say? I wanna see, lemme see-"

"Drista! Where are your manners?" Stephanie scolded.

" _Fine._ George, lemme see _please-_ "

"It just has my name on it," George muttered, holding the tag out for Drista to see.

"George H. Davidson- wow, you have fancy handwriting," Drista said.

"It's called cursive. Have you heard of it?"

"Nope! Mom, what's cursive?"

"It's a special type of writing," Stephanie said.

"Ooh, you write _special_?" Drista asked excitedly.

"Wha- no- I don't usually write in cursive," George grumbled. "And it's not that special, lots of people write in cursive."

"Can you teach me to write cursive?"

"It's _in_ cursive. And maybe later."

"Oooh, Mom, did you hear that? George's gonna teach me how to write cursive!"

George exhaled sharply.

"She's kind of annoying, watch out for her," Clay whispered.

"Hey! I'm not annoying! Mom, tell Clay that I'm not annoying!"

"Clay, don't call your sister annoying," Stephanie said.

"Thanks- wait- you didn't say I'm not annoying!"

Clay and George both burst into laughter. After a few moments. George seemed to realize he was laughing and calmed himself, his face serious again.

Clay thought as George grabbed two more duffel bags. He'd been acting pretty dickish so far, but then again, Clay probably hadn't been the nicest of folks either. He was used to joking around with Nick, and he had just acted the same way with George. Apparently, George didn't really like that. He seemed to have had some shitty experiences in England. Clay decided right then that George's next five months would be some of the best of his life. He deserved it, after all.

George was undoubtedly different than Clay had expected. However, Clay knew that the two of them were going to be great friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to update slower than usual, as classes just started back up again. There probably won't be another chapter for at least another week. Thanks for understanding, love you all, and thank you for the support so far!


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George arrives at the Mitchell's home and shares his past with Clay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the gap in uploads, hope you enjoy the chapter!

Needless to say, the drive home was very awkward.

Stephanie and Will tried to talk to George, but he just wasn't in the mood. Drista was talking the entire time, but more _about_ George than to George. Clay just ignored him. George felt terrible.

He probably should have been kinder to Clay. However, his nightmare had, for some reason, pasted itself to his brain, refusing to leave. It scared George far more than it should've.

Maybe it was because of the memories they reminded George of. The memories were the reason he was here in the first place.

"How much longer in the car?" Drista asked after a while. George seconded the motion to find out. He was a bit nauseous, though he wasn't sure how much of it was due to the car and how much was due to his own nasty thoughts.

"Probably about 10 to 20 minutes," Stephanie said from the front of the car.

10 to 20 minutes? It had been at least half an hour already.

"You OK, George?" Will asked.

George nodded.

Sighing, he stared out the windscreen. He really should apologize to Clay. George glanced over at him. He wasn't able to identify the exact emotion on Clay's face. However, he knew that his first impression probably wasn't great.

Eventually, the car pulled up to the Mitchells' house. George's, too, now. That was such a weird thought. He would be living in this house for five months.

"Welcome home, George," Stephanie said as she opened the door.

The short entry hall led to a nice looking living room. There were two sofas, a wooden rocking chair, and a glass coffee table. Down the hall, to the left, George could see a kitchen and dining room. To the right was a staircase, presumably leading to the second floor.

"Where should I put this?" George asked, holding up the duffel bag he was carrying inside.

"Oh, just by the door is fine," Stephanie said.

George dropped the duffel bag and his backpack and walked towards a sofa to sit down, but manners stopped him. He looked over at Stephanie and Will.

"Sit down, please," Stephanie said. "This is your home now. Treat it like you would yours."

"Unless that means destroying all the furniture," Will said with a chuckle.

"Oh, stop it, Will. You don't destroy furniture, do you, George?" Stephanie asked.

George smiled. "No, I don't," he said as he sat down.

Stephanie shook her head. "Do you want anything to eat, George?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen.

George started to speak, but Clay sat down next to him on the sofa. George felt himself go red. Partly from shame... but partly not.

"I'll just have some water," he muttered.

"Me too," Clay said.

"Clay, you know how to get that yourself," Stephanie said.

"Yeah, but you're already over there."

Stephanie sighed. George heard the sound of a cabinet door opening, clinking glass, and the sound of water being dispensed. She emerged from the kitchen holding two glasses of water, shaking her head as she gave Clay his.

"Cheers," Clay said, holding out his glass.

George clinked his glass against Clay's.

George took a sip of water. Clay was pretty cute, he thought. The hair, the eyes-

_No. Stop that. You're being ridiculous._

"When you boys are ready, Clay, will you show George around the house?" Stephanie said. "I have to start dinner and your father's getting George's stuff from the car."

"I should help with that," George said.

"No, of course not," Stephanie said. "You're very tired, surely. We can take care of it."

George _was_ pretty tired, now that she mentioned it. He yawned.

Clay yawned just afterward. "Goddammit," he muttered.

George smirked in response.

He drank the rest of the water in his glass.

"Here." Clay stood up and held out his hand.

_What-_

_Is he-_

"Your glass," Clay emphasized, raising his eyebrows.

"-Oh." George handed Clay his glass.

Clay walked toward the kitchen. George stood up and followed.

"So this is the kitchen." Clay dumped the glasses into the sink.

"Yeah, I got that," George said dryly.

"Ooh, smart, aren't we," Clay countered.

He pointed to some drawers and cabinets. "Here's the plates, bowls, glasses, silverware-"

"Show him my room!" Drista yelled from the other room. "Clayclayclayclayclay-"

"Yes, Drista, eventually," Clay yelled back. He sighed and turned around.

"There's a bathroom right here," Clay said, pointed to a door adjacent to the staircase. "Let's go upstairs."

George followed him to the second floor.

"This is my parents' room," Clay said, pointing to the room at the top of the stairs. He turned left. "That's Drista's room," he said as they walked by another room. "And this is my room. And yours. C'mon."

The two of them entered the room. There was a bunk bed pushed up against the left wall. At the back of the room, there was a desk under a pair of windows. In the near left corner, a bookshelf with a beanbag chair.

Clay sat down in the chair at the desk, spinning around to face George.

"So what do you think?" he asked.

"It's very nice," George said, looking around.

"Hang on," Clay said. "You're color-blind, right? Do you know what color this is?" He pointed to the blankets on the bunk beds.

George sighed. Ordinarily, being asked what color something was annoyed him, but he was used to it. Plus, Clay just seemed interested. Most people asked so they could laugh when George got it wrong.

"Green?" he asked.

"You got it," Clay said. "Green's my favorite color."

_You should apologize for what happened earlier. Now._

George pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Clay... I- I'm sorry."

Clay looked confused. "For what?"

"For- for being rude earlier. At the airport."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I'm serious!"

Clay chuckled. "You do _not_ have to apologize. _I_ should be apologizing. I was being a total jerk."

George didn't like the underlying tones in Clay's voice. He didn't sound _rude,_ just... very condescending.

"No really, I'm sorry," he responded.

"No really _you,_ don't apologize. It isn't your fault."

"What do you mean, it isn't my fault?"

Clay paused. "I-"

"Why are you being all patronizing and shit. Talk to me like a normal person, will you?"

Clay pursed his lips. "Well, I don't know, you seem, like-" He sighed. "George... why are you here?"

That one caught George off guard. "Well, why does anyone sign up for this? I mean, I thought it would be a good experience, you know, and people always say America is so bad, I just wanted to see-"

"No, you didn't."

"W- what?"

"You can be honest with me, y'know, George."

"I am being honest, you big prick." Well, not exactly, but he wasn't _lying,_ either.

Clay raised his eyebrows. Something about that look made George feel guilty.

"Fine, I'm not being _completely_ honest."

Clay smirked.

"But I won't tell you anything else if you don't stop being a jerk."

"Your accent is so _British,_ " Clay muttered, completely unprompted.

"You're not looking good so far, you know."

Clay clutched at his heart. "I- I'm not looking good?" he whined in a baby voice. "You don't think I look good, George?" He broke down into fake tears.

"Oh, shut up, I didn't mean it like _that_." George blushed slightly.

_Stop being weird,_ he reminded himself forcefully.

Clay sat up. "All right, all right. I'll listen."

George huffed. "Well... back in England, I... I was... I was made fun of."

He paused. That... was quite an understatement. He subconsciously rubbed the scar on his left forearm, hidden under the sleeve of his jacket.

"There were some kids," he said quietly. "They... they... they beat me up sometimes."

Clay scrunched up his nose. "That's horrible."

"It got worse," George said quietly. "One day, one of them- _hurt me._ Like, really hurt me." He stopped talking. He wasn't sure if he would start crying, and he wanted to stay on the safe side.

"What the hell," Clay said. "Why would anyone do that?"

Oh, George knew why. He most definitely did.

However, right now, he really didn't need Clay knowing that he was-

"I don't know," George said softly.

Clay didn't look like he completely believed him. However, he didn't say anything.

"So, yeah," George murmured. He gripped his arm tightly, forcing the ugly memories that had begun to resurface back to where they had come from.

"Do you want to say anything else about it?" Clay asked.

"No," George said immediately. "Not- not right now."

"Oh," Clay said. "Well, if you ever want to, you can."

George turned away.

"And I'm sorry that happened," Clay added.

"Thanks," George muttered. It wasn't like the apology could change anything. It still felt good to hear, though.

"Anyway, I think you're gonna love it here," Clay said. "I can't wait to introduce you to Nick and Darryl."

George and Clay talked somewhat awkwardly for some time until Stephanie called them downstairs.

The two of them walked into the kitchen to find a delicious meal of tri-tip steak.

Clay sat to George's left, causing him to feel somewhat self-conscious. He tried not to slouch, knowing that he really shouldn't _care_ this much.

Then Drista walked in and sat to his right. George forgot whatever he had been thinking as she started to ramble on about absolutely nothing.

Over dinner, Stephanie and Will talked to George about where he would be going to school and all that. George tried to pay attention. He was exhausted from the jet lag, barely keeping himself awake. Plus, Clay kept whispering jokes to him, and it was hard to focus on what Stephanie and Will were saying.

Eventually, everyone finished eating, and Drista was sent to bed. George was told that he and Clay could stay up, but George was so tired that he decided to go to sleep anyway.

When George walked out of the bathroom, he entered his and Clay's room to find Clay staring at the bunk beds.

"So," Clay said. "Um- do you want- uh-" He turned a bit red. "Are you- which- what I'm trying to say is-"

George stood there, slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm trying to find a way to say this without making it awkward." Clay sighed and waved his hand toward the bunk beds. "Just pick one."

George turned red too and quickly climbed the ladder onto the top bunk before the conversation continued.

"Really," Clay mumbled.

"What?"

"Never mind."

George sighed.

Clay turned off the light and climbed into the bottom bunk.

"Goodnight, George," he said.

"Goodnight, Clay."

There was silence for a minute or so.

"I still can't believe you made me yawn earlier," Clay grumbled.

George smiled before he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I took a break from writing for a while for both school and mental health.  
> Your support is so incredible. I really don't deserve any of this, I appreciate it so much :)  
> I'll try to upload sooner this time!  
> I hope you enjoyed :D


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